Andy Marshall of Yonkers, above, and Terry Greenhut of White Plains find different ways to pass the time while waiting for their turn to sign up for tee times. / Stuart Bayer/The Journal News

Written by

Sam Borden

Journal News columnist

Waiting is a relative concept. Some people think waiting overnight for concert tickets is no big deal. Give them a sleeping bag, a cooler and a Ouija board and they're all set. "Pass the freeze-dried beef jerky, please," they say with a smile. Conversely, there are other folks who quickly move to the verge of homicide if the one guy in front of them at the checkout counter decides he wants to pay with a personal check. Patience isn't exactly their strong suit.

In Westchester, there is a growing history of waiting when it comes to the public golf courses (beyond, even, the six-hour rounds that are the norm when you try to play on a Saturday afternoon in the middle of summer). For some of the most dedicated golfers around here, waiting has become an art.

"You have to have the right attitude," Andy Marshall says, leaning back in his seat inside an RV parked near the front of the Maple Moor Golf Course parking lot. It is Tuesday afternoon, and Marshall, who is from Yonkers, informs me that the RV arrived on Sunday night. He and three other guys will take shifts in it all week so that they can sign up for an EZ-Reserve tee time at Maple Moor tomorrow morning. By being first in line, they'll be able to pay $250 a person and lock in their preferred tee time at the golf course for every Saturday morning from mid-April through September.

This is the sixth year the county courses have been running this program for their early-morning weekend times, and Marshall - along with his crew - has done the extended wait each time. This is their first year with the RV, which has a bed, shower, microwave and mini-stove. "It's way better than the conversion van we used to have," Marshall says, before noting that the generator has been on the fritz. "I guess you could call that 'Cadillac problems,' - we're more comfortable than them," he says, pointing a finger out the window at the line of regular old sedans parked behind him, where other tee-time hopefuls are trying to find a comfortable dozing position in the driver's seat. Sitting comfortably at the kitchen table with his shoes off, Marshall reminisces about the first time he waited in line for something. "Led Zeppelin, 1973," he says. "If you got to Madison Square Garden at 3 a.m. the night before, you were first on line for tickets. I was 15."

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He sighs. "That show rocked."

That was an overnight though. In some cases, this can be up to a week. The rules say every car must be manned by at least one person at all times for the spot in line to be valid. "I saw a car get kicked out of line," says Terry Greenhut, who is part of two different foursomes holding spots - one Saturday tee time, one Sunday - at Saxon Woods.

That is surely a common refrain from spouses and relatives but dedicated local waiters actually have a government endorsement they can fall back on. Eliot Engel, the Democrat who represents Westchester, Rockland and the Bronx in the U.S. House of Representatives, is well-known for his waiting - just last month he showed up at the Congressional chamber 12 hours before President Barack Obama was to make a televised address to ensure he would have an aisle seat and be able to shake the President's hand (which he did).

"Go for it - if it's something you want, you go for it," says Engel when asked what he'd say to his fellow waiters. "I enjoy being on the aisle and meeting the president. ... If I've got to wait five hours, I'll wait."

Like Marshall, Engel has a waiting history; he and a pal alternated shifts on line for 1969 Mets playoff tickets, sneaking away from the typing classes they were supposed to be teaching to hold their place. "I wanted those tickets and I got them," Engel says. "And the Mets won the World Series that year."

Now, Engel waits for slightly loftier seats, and he points out that waiting is something that crosses traditional party lines. He and Rep. Jean Schmidt, a Republican from Ohio, kept an eye on each other's places when the other had to step out of the chamber throughout the day.

"I was looking out for her seat, she was looking out for mine," Engel says.

There's a similar camaraderie at the county courses. Some guys have RVs, others are working on laptops and listening to satellite radio nonstop in their Hondas and Toyotas. The payoff for all of them comes this weekend. "You know what's kind of crazy?" Marshall says.

"We wait like this so we can get the first tee time of the day and play fast - like, home by 10 a.m. fast. And if we didn't, I don't think I'd play much golf at all because I hate playing slowly when the course is crowded."